Synopses & Reviews

Publisher Comments

An extraordinary debut novel of love that survives the fires of hell and transcends the boundaries of time.

The narrator of The Gargoyle is a very contemporary cynic, physically beautiful and sexually adept, who dwells in the moral vacuum that is modern life. As the book opens, he is driving along a dark road when he is distracted by what seems to be a flight of arrows. He crashes into a ravine and suffers horrible burns over much of his body. As he recovers in a burn ward, undergoing the tortures of the damned, he awaits the day when he can leave the hospital and commit carefully planned suicide  for he is now a monster in appearance as well as in soul.

A beautiful and compelling, but clearly unhinged, sculptress of gargoyles by the name of Marianne Engel appears at the foot of his bed and tells him that they were once lovers in medieval Germany. In her telling, he was a badly injured mercenary and she was a nun and scribe in the famed monastery of Engelthal who nursed him back to health. As she spins their tale in Scheherazade fashion and relates equally mesmerizing stories of deathless love in Japan, Iceland, Italy, and England, he finds himself drawn back to life  and finally in love. He is released into Marianne's care and takes up residence in her huge stone house. But all is not well. For one thing, the pull of his past sins becomes ever more powerful as the morphine he is prescribed becomes ever more addictive. For another, Marianne receives word from God that she only has twenty-seven sculptures left to complete  and her time on earth will be finished.

Already an international literary sensation, The Gargoyle is an Inferno for our time. It will have you believing in the impossible.

Review

"At the start of Davidson's powerful debut, the unnamed narrator, 'a coke-addled pornographer,' drives his car off a mountain road in a part of the country that's never specified. During his painful recovery from horrific burns suffered in the crash, the narrator plots to end his life after his release from the hospital. When a schizophrenic fellow patient, Marianne Engel, begins to visit him and describe her memories of their love affair in medieval Germany, the narrator is at first skeptical, but grows less so. Eventually, he abandons his elaborate suicide plan and envisions a life with Engel, a sculptress specializing in gargoyles. Davidson, in addition to making his flawed protagonist fully sympathetic, blends convincing historical detail with deeply felt emotion in both Engel's recollections of her past life with the narrator and her moving accounts of tragic love. Once launched into this intense tale of unconventional romance, few readers will want to put it down." Publishers Weekly (Starred Review) (Copyright Reed Business Information, Inc.)

Review

"Davidson's debut is storytelling at its finest, featuring a lively assortment of characters and events that combine in a gripping drama that will keep readers' attention through the very last page. An essential summer book; highly recommended." Library Journal

Review

"The Gargoyle is purely and simply an amazement, a riot, a blast. It's hard to believe that this is Andrew Davidson's first novel: He barrels out of the chute with the narrative brio and confidence, not to mention the courage, of a seasoned master. This book plucks the reader off the ground and whirls her through the air until she shouts from sheer abandonment and joy. What a great, grand treat." Peter Straub

Review

"I was blown away by Andrew Davidson's The Gargoyle, It reminded me of Life of Pi, with its unanswered (and unanswerable) contradictions. A hypnotic, horrifying, astonishing novel that manages, against all odds, to be redemptive." Sara Gruen, author of Water for Elephants

Review

"A romance spanning centuries and continents finds a grotesque narrator redeemed by the love of a woman who claims they first met seven centuries earlier, in this deliriously ambitious debut novel. This spellbinding narrative [is] a credit to the craftsmanship of the Canadian writer." Kirkus Reviews

Review

"A transportingly unhinged debut novel." New York Times

Review

"First he gives us a story that sweeps us in with no protest. You want to be lost in its pages, immersed in the unfolding tale of the human gargoyle and a flesh and blood wraith. In the final analysis, the real tragedy of this book is that it ends." New York Daily News

Review

"Working with a palette of recurring symbols  fire, water, arrowheads, hearts  Mr. Davidson paints an engaging if not scintillating tableau. It is, at least, a large one: There is physical suffering and spiritual elation, suicide, rebirth and redemption  all of it fraught with visions of hell." Wall Street Journal

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About the Author

Andrew Davidson was born in Pinawa, Manitoba, and graduated in 1995 from the University of British Columbia with a B.A. in English literature. He has worked as a teacher in Japan, where he has lived on and off, and as a writer of English lessons for Japanese websites. The Gargoyle, the product of seven years' worth of research and composition, is his first book. Davidson lives in Pinawa, Manitoba.

Reading Group Guide

1. Dante's Inferno

First published in 1314, this epic poem is the first "song" in Dante Alighieri's three-part Divine Comedy; subsequent canticles describe Purgatory and Paradise. In The Inferno, Virgil guides Dante through the underworld, comprising nine concentric circles that represent varying degrees of condemnation, from the unbaptized in Limbo to traitorous Satan at the center.

Dante begins his tour of hell on Good Friday, 1300, the suggested day and year of Marianne's birth. The day of Christ's crucifixion, Good Friday makes additional appearances in The Gargoyle: It is Sister Christina's birthday and the day of the narrator's car accident.

Like Dante, The Gargoyle's narrator begins his journey in the woods, at the age of thirty-five. Contemplation of suicide occurs in early passages of The Inferno as well as The Gargoyle.

For Discussion: In The Inferno, condemned souls receive punishments that correspond to their sins. The Gargoyle's narrator loses his ability to consummate sex, but he retains his ability to feel intense desire. What other forms of hell does he suffer? What do Dante's images signify to Marianne? What sort of tailor-made suffering might Dante have invented for you? What do a society's beliefs regarding the afterlife say about that society's values in general?

2. The Medieval Church

The founding of the Dominican monastery Engelthal occurred as described in The Gargoyle. In its strictest definition, "monastery" can refer to a religious retreat for both women and men, though Engelthal nuns did not preach as friars did. The nuns' predecessors, the beguines, were also sometimes seen as a threat to ecclesiastical authority. The women who worked in the renowned Engelthal scriptorium in the fourteenth century are said to have produced more extant texts than any other religious house of their era. At the time of Father Sunder's death in 1328, he and Brother Heinrich had lived together for thirty-eight years. Father Sunder was said to have had very special status, and was called a "pope in heaven" with the Power of the Keys, effectively granting him the authority to forgive any sin at any time.

Heinrich Seuse's extreme, self-inflicted physical suffering captures a medieval Christian approach to the opposition between body and spirit, and to the desire for God and man to achieve a metaphysical union. Meister Eckhart, who explored similar questions, was declared a heretic under trial by Pope John XXII.

The Three Masters are derived from Heinrich Seuse's attempts to control his tongue. He called on three spiritual masters, Father Dominic, St. Arsenius, and St. Bernard, and would not speak without receiving their permission in a vision.

Marianne's assertion in Chapter Five that "God is a circle whose center is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere" was commonly invoked by medieval theologians.

Continually persecuted by religious and political entities, the Jews of medieval Germany lived in two worlds: one of segregated self-governance and Talmudic codes, and one of utter dependence on the whims of papal authority.

For Discussion: How does medieval Catholicism compare to the other forms of faith–religious or otherwise–captured in the novel? In what ways does contemporary society still struggle with the tandem between body and soul? Was it easier for you to relate to Marianne's mysticism or to the narrator's atheism?

3. Gargoyles

The legend describing the creation of the first gargoyle, recounted in Chapter Three, is just one of many versions. Andrew Davidson invented the battle scene between Romanus and La Gargouille; it does not appear in published legends. The concept of using a sculpture depicting an animal's mouth to divert water from buildings dates well before medieval Europe. Ancient Egyptian and Greek architecture is rife with apparatuses that would qualify as "gargoyles."

As Marianne says in Chapter Twenty, medieval gargoyles were indeed sometimes painted bright colors. Oranges, reds, and greens were popular, and some gargoyles were gilded. They were made from a variety of materials, including limestone, marble, lead, or metal, and they usually weighed several hundred pounds.

Scholars debate the intended message behind medieval gargoyles. Perhaps they were meant to ward off evil spirits, or to depict evil forces. Early Gothic examples easily convey a moral lesson, while later ones can frequently be interpreted as comical.

For Discussion: In Chapter Five, Marianne describes herself as "a vessel that water is poured into and splashes out of, a flowing circle between God and the gargoyles and me." In Chapter Sixteen, the narrator realizes that Marianne "loved [the gargoyles] out of the stone." What mandate is she fulfilling in both of these descriptions? What makes Marianne's mandate relevant to the modern world? What traits does the narrator share with medieval gargoyles?

4. Legendary Lovers

The author incorporated the four Greek classical elements of the physical world when writing Marianne's legends: Sei lived as a glassblower (Air) and died by being buried alive (Earth). Victoria lived as a farmwoman (Earth) and died by drowning (Water). Sigurðr lived as a Viking (Water) and died in a burning longhouse (Fire). Francesco lived as an ironworker (Fire) and died by breathing in the Plague (Air).

Brandeis and his fellow mercenaries served during a tumultuous time for the Holy Roman Empire. Between 1314 and 1347, Louis the Bavarian served as Duke of Bavaria, the German king, and the Holy Roman Emperor, meeting with constant resistance from the papacy (including excommunication).

Marianne's fairy tales are Davidson's inventions. Though the novel's depictions of Engelthal incorporate many figures from true history, none of the incarnations of Marianne and the narrator are based on such characters. Marianne's copy of The Inferno was found among the possessions of the archer Niccolò, later revealed to be the father of metalworker Francesco.

Sei is stung by the Asian giant hornet, the world's largest wasp (and among the deadliest). Sigurðr's "fine boat grave" refers to a highly honorary burial style used in the Vendel era and by the Anglo-Saxons, the Merovingians, the Vikings, and occasionally the Ancient Egyptians. This form of burial was thought to enable passage to Valhalla. In Norse mythology, the paradise of Valhalla is the great hall where war heroes greet the afterlife. The less fortunate are relegated to a cold, dismal kingdom of death ruled by the goddess Hel.

Tom's ill-fated voyage is alluded to in the story of Sigurðr and Einarr, when Bragi stumbles off his sleeping bench during the fire while the floor seems "to lurch like a boat deck during a storm."

In Chapter Seven, Marianne tells the narrator that he must do nothing for her in order to prove his love. This foreshadows her final scene on the beach in the novel's closing passages.

For Discussion: Throughout each liaison, how do the novel's lovers honor their fate? In each case, who or what is the greatest threat to their happiness? Do you agree with Meister Eckhart's descriptions of love and death in the novel's epigraph? Which of Marianne's tales was the most memorable for you?

5. Linguistic Curiosities

Translated into English, Sei's name means "pure" or "clean."

Bragi's name is derived from the Norse god of poetry.

In Chapter Nine, the narrator wonders whether he can trust Sayuri's translation of her conversation with Marianne. In fact, he can. Sayuri gave him a faithful rendering of their words.

The names of the nun-nurses of Engelthal echo those of the nurses who tend to the narrator in the present time: Mathildis, Elisabeth, and Constantia versus Maddy, Beth, and Connie.

While the word gargoyle is related to a French word meaning gargle, the word grotesque (a non-aquatic gargoyle) is derived from the Old Italian grottesca, meaning "cave painting," from which the English word grotto evolved.

Marianne's linguistic abilities are an allusion to the New Testament's Book of Acts 2:3, in which the apostles speak in tongues when preaching the gospel.

Gertrud's German translation of the Bible is one of Andrew Davidson's inventions.

When Sayuri asks the narrator if he is genki, she is asking him if he is feeling energetic. "Genki desu ka?" is a common Japanese greeting, essentially asking "Are you feeling well?"

For Discussion: How does the multilingual aspect of The Gargoyle shape the novel, giving voice to the universal aspects of the human experience? How do Marianne's vignettes offer a testament to the power of words and language?

6. The Gargoyle begins with arguably one of the most stunning opening scenes in contemporary literature. How was the author able to make horrifying details alluring? What was your initial reaction to these images?

7. How were you affected by the narrator's voice and his ability to address you in an intimate, direct monologue? How did his storytelling style compare to Marianne's? In what ways did these tales balance reality and surrealism?

8. Arrows form a recurring symbol throughout the novel. What are their various uses as tools of war and of love? What makes them ideal for Marianne's stories?

9. What medical aspects of the narrator's treatment surprised you the most? Did his gruesome journey change the way you feel about your own body?

10. How did Marianne's experience of God evolve and mature throughout her life? How do you personally reconcile the concept of a loving God and the reality of human suffering?

11. Marianne uses her body as a canvas. What messages does it convey? How does the narrator "read" bodies before his accident, both in front of the camera and while picking up less-dazzling strangers?

12. Discuss the role of ghosts and memory in The Gargoyle. In what ways does the past repeat itself? How are the characters shaped by past circumstances? When are their painful cycles to be broken?

13. What does Marianne's copy of The Inferno indicate about the value of books beyond their content? In what way can a book also be an art object, or an artifact of history?

14. Eventually, Nan reveals her own burn scars. What motivates the novel's healers–including Nan, Marianne, Sayuri, and Gregor? Whom does the narrator heal?

15. Discuss the role of money throughout The Gargoyle. What kept Jack honest? What did it mean for Marianne, a woman, to have far more money than the men in her life, both in the 14th century and in the contemporary storyline?

16. How did you interpret the narrator's own Dante-esque tour, described in Chapter Twenty-nine? Was he hallucinating, in the throes of withdrawal while he kicked the bitchsnake of morphine, or did he journey to an underworld? Or both? Was Marianne a mere mortal?

17. The novel closes with Marianne's departure and the marriage of Gregor and Sayuri. The narrator grapples with guilt, trying to understand whether he could or should have saved Marianne. What enabled Gregor and Sayuri to recognize and nurture their love for one another? What determines whether a relationship will become exhausted or perpetually revitalized? Is fate or willpower the greater factor?

18. An old adage, evidenced particularly in Shakespeare's works, states that a comedy ends with a marriage, while a tragedy ends with a death. Given that The Gargoyle ends with both a marriage and a death, what does it say about the work?

Whether you read The Gargoyle with a book group or as a solo experience, this is a novel rich with topics for further exploration. Incorporating legends and locales drawn from a medieval monastery, Viking raiders, Victorian England, feudal Japan, Italian literary masterpieces, and other imaginative threads, Andrew Davidson weaves copious history into this singular love story. This guide is designed to illuminate many of those details, yielding facts behind the fiction while raising questions for contemplation or discussion. An interview with the author is included as well, revealing surprising aspects of the story behind The Gargoyle. We hope this supplement will enhance your enjoyment of Davidsons captivating saga.

For additional information on The Gargoyle, visit doubleday.com/thegargoyle. To find other great books for reading groups, visit www.randomhouse.com/doubleday/readers/.

Decoding The Gargoyle

The following notes and questions showcase prominent topics in The Gargoyle. One feature spans the entire book: Two acrostics are formed across the novels thirty-three chapters. When read in order, the first letter of every chapter spells out ALL THINGS IN A SINGLE BOOK BOUND BY LOVE, derived from Dantes Paradiso, Canto XXXIII: “I saw within Its depths how It conceives / all things in a single volume bound by Love / of which the universe is the scattered leaves.” The last letter of every chapter spells out DIE LIEBE IST STARK WIE DER TOD, MARIANNE, meaning “Love is as strong as death, Marianne,” from the sermon by Meister Eckhart quoted in the epigraph.

Author Q&A

An Interview with Andrew Davidson

You spent seven years writing The Gargoyle, a novel begun in your thirties. What was your starting point?

When I first moved to Japan, teaching English and writing for Japanese Web sites, I wrote a series of letters to a close friend. In these letters, a character started to pop up in the correspondence, taking it over whenever she could wrestle away control of my pen. She arrived with wild hair and blue-green eyes, ranting in front of a church, and her name arrived with her: Marianne Engel. She just kept jabbing at me until I consented to give her more attention. It was clear that she would inhabit a novel.

At the time I was struck with a curiosity about the treatment of severe burn survivors. I recognize that this might seem somewhat specialized and peculiar, but it was directly related to an idea I had for the starting point of a story. I imagine that everyone has had a relationship end and experienced the feeling of having “been burned.” It is a clichéd image, to be sure, but it is a cliché because it is apt and true. I was intrigued by the idea of a relationship that did not end with the feeling of being burned, but one that began with such a feeling–taken to the most literal level.

How did you tackle the research for The Gargoyle?

The story was not written and then supplemented with research as needed; no, I read widely and sometimes a single bit of new information twisted my novel in another direction. My research has been almost entirely based in written works, ranging from encyclopedias of medieval German life to medical journals on the latest burn research. As of this writing (July 2008), I have never been to Germany; in fact, I have never been to continental Europe. Similarly, I have never been to a burn ward.

An example of wandering research influencing the novel came in the entire portion of the book set in medieval Germany. There was no original intention to take the story to this place and time; the first draft had absolutely no mention of Sister Marianne’s life in the Middle Ages. It was not until I had been working on the novel for a year that I came across a reference to a monastery called Engelthal. As I mentioned, Marianne Engel arrived with her name fully intact, and while I knew her last name meant “angel” in German, I had never heard of the monastery. The medieval German section ultimately came into being because the character who had intruded into my personal letters arrived with the name Engel, and because I found the name of the monastery–“Engelthal” or “Valley of the Angels”–quite charming.

During his youth, the novel’s narrator found solace in his local library. When you were a child, was the same true for you?

I was the boy who bicycled down to the library and returned with my basket filled with books. I went through dozens each week; there was nothing better. Subject matter ran from biographies to science to myths to serious fiction–everything was of interest. When I was not reading, I liked to sit in the corner and listen to the adults talk, and I most enjoyed the tall tales. The more certain I was that the story was a lie, the more I enjoyed the telling of it.

When did you realize you wanted to become a writer?

Through my teen years, I concentrated on playing hockey. I was, after all, a Canadian boy. I was good but not nearly good enough. By the time I was sixteen, I realized that there would be no future in the National Hockey League for me. The timing coincided with an exceptional high school English teacher and from that age forward, all I ever wanted to do professionally was write.

You’ve experienced the sort of debut most writers dream of, with foreign rights sold in more than twenty countries and phenomenal pre-publication praise. What advice do you have for aspiring novelists?

I have taken many courses on writing and was often told that it is best to write about what one knows. I have always found this to be the worst possible advice. I would suggest that one should always write about what one wants to know, because there will be weeks, months, or even years of research. It is essential to find something that can hold one’s interest for such periods.

The process by which I write is to overwrite and then reduce. The novel as it stands, at approximately 154,000 words, was reduced from more than one million words that I wrote while trying to discover what I was writing about.

This debut novel transports the reader through many valleys and mountains, experiencing the full gamut of life at its rawest. Which I must say this book reveals how raw an author can be with insane sincerity. I loved and hated parts of the book from the graphic detail of the accident in the beginning to the surreal death in the end; the physical and spiritual pain made me remorseful, sympathetic, yet helpless to do a thing, though moved to action. I would highly recommend this book to everyone, as I have for the simple pleasure of experiencing true redemption at the hands of a God who truly loves us.

You will either LOVE this book or HATE it. I LOVED it. I found it to be a bit of a different kind of stort that takes you through alot of different experiences. From the science of being severly burned to old history to the art of sculpture, and others. I think thats what I liked about it is that it made me think about, and feel and wonder about many different things that you dont normally find in one book.

Andrew Davidson, a new Canadian author, has debuted with a powerful and absorbing book. A story of love that transcends time and boundaries over 700 years, the book is filled with history, none of it dry. Medical practices from medieval to current times, beliefs of the centuries, everyday life experiences, and brought it all into an almost magical present. The characters are unique but built gradually so the reader can gather the fullness of them. It is written with the voice of one of the two main characters, a rather unsavory film maker and actor at the outset with only his own ambition and looks in his mind. A man detached from normal life, love, and destiny. One thing he does do though, is read deeply and thoroughly.
On drugs and drunk, he has a horrendous car accident which is about to change his life completely. He awakens in a hospital where he finds he is so badly burned that it is a wonder he could wake up at all. His “friends” come and go as quickly as possible. As time passes, a young woman comes in to visit him and one of the first things he notices is that she shows no look of horror at what she sees of his injuries. Instead, she makes the comment (in this version) “You’ve been burned. Again.” Rather than the sadness and disgust one might expect to feel during the burn treatments, they are relatively easy to read, well researched, and necessary to the plot. Marianne is a patient in the hospital and it is believed she has psychological disorders... or does she? Attempts to bar her from visiting him in the burn unit are to no avail. He shortly afterward requests every psychology book he can get, particularly relating to schizophrenia, from the psychiatrist who befriends him.
Throughout “The Gargoyle”, Marianne visits him, later arranging for him to share her home and accept her for his care and recovery. She relates several stories of her life over the previous seven centuries and about how she came to meet him again and again. There is so much to be learned on many levels from this book and I found it engrossing. Oh yes, there are gargoyles, or more correctly grotesques, but not in the way you might expect. I do not want to put any spoilers in this review, so let it be said that whether fanciful or real, the ending will leave you with questions both answered and unanswered. I have never read a book quite like this but the one thing that is consistent is pure selfless love. Suspend your belief for a while and enjoy this surprising and fascinating debut! My congratulations to Andrew Davidson, this is one extraordinary book.

Read the reviews and then read the book thinking it might be good to pitch for my book group. I am glad I read it beforehand, as I would be embarrassed if the group had picked it! This book tells you everything, but leaves you feeling nothing.

Most overrated novel I've come across since Memoirs of a Geisha. Nothing is more annoying than fiction about someone who is supposed to be super smart written by someone who isn't. Dialogue is predictable, the story moves at a glacial pace, and the narrator's self and world view is adolescent. I wouldn't have been quite so annoyed if all of the reviews hadn't so outrageously oversold this book, although the fact that one reviewer referenced Gabaldon should have been a clue!

I can't remember the last time I woke up and the first thing I wanted to reach for was my book, but after Marianne Engel showed up in the burn ward, I kept The Gargoyle on my bedside table until I reached the end. I didn't think I'd be able to relate to the narrator at all based on the first few chapters, but once Marianne became the story-teller, everything was possible. It's a book replete with despair, love, hope, faith and redemption--the best kind of romance.